


hate to admit how much you mean to me

by VelvetDove



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (points to Hinata) and the bottom is... you!, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Begging, Bottom Hinata Hajime, Boys Kissing, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Gift Fic, Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), I didn't mean to. but things happened., Intrusive Thoughts, Kissing, Light Angst, Like super light, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Gore, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, POV Komaeda Nagito, Phone Sex, Pining, Possessive Sex, Public Hand Jobs, Reserve Course (Dangan Ronpa), Sexual Content, Swearing, Teasing, Top Komaeda Nagito, being good at summaries? couldn't be me, just a bit of phone sex. listen. look. look at me., nice how those two tags go hand in hand innit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetDove/pseuds/VelvetDove
Summary: "He’s above all of it, after all, he tells himself. The work and the stress, the talentless and the hopeless, Hinata - it's all beneath him. Hinata's beneath him, meant to be used for the greater good. Komaeda’s only hanging around Hinata to remind himself of that.And yet, Komaeda keeps coming to him. He keeps coming to him, because Hinata smiles and laughs and talks with Komaeda and that's something he’s never known before. It isn’t long until their surface level relationship starts to sink into something with more depth, until he's missing Hinata each time they say goodbye.It isn’t long until he unintentionally starts to see Hinata as human."(Komaeda tries to convince himself that Hinata Hajime is worthless and despicable and not even remotely worth his time.He doesn’t do a very good job, and Hinata certainly doesn’t make it easy.)
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 36
Kudos: 274





	hate to admit how much you mean to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saradactyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saradactyl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Close the Door Behind You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854514) by [Saradactyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saradactyl/pseuds/Saradactyl). 



> As it says, for Saradactyl. Your support and friendship is so incredibly appreciated - I cannot express how much easier it has been to participate in and add my voice to the fandom because of your constant kindness and encouragement. On top of it, your wonderful fics are what inspired me to write this particular Komahina dynamic, so I dedicate this one to you! Thank you for being such a spectacular person 💕 please keep doing what you do!! 💞💞

When Komaeda _sees_ him, it’s at a house party Komaeda was only invited to out of obligation instead of friendship - which is to say, he isn't very welcome.

It's not that Komaeda hasn't noticed him before. It’d just been different when he _had_. Komaeda would catch sight of him around the academy, by the fountain, with Nanami, but that had never counted. He’d been nameless and faceless, another nobody in a sea of nobodies, and Komaeda was certain that this would always be so.

When Komaeda _sees_ him like it’s the very first time, something stirs in him. The party is bustling with Ultimates he knows from his own class and those he knows from the classes below him, though not intimately so. But there is another among them, one who doesn’t belong, yet so seamlessly fits in like he does. The brunet is dancing in a group of other men and women whose movements are deliberate and confident, swaying and shifting with the music to show off and impress - but he is different. His eyes are closed and his face is scrunched up tight, listening to learn and know the music rather than just dance to it. His hands are raised upwards, fingers moving in rhythm with the melody as he reaches for it, wishing to _feel_ it, and the smile on his face is careless and free.

He is in a new world, and yet still in his own, hopeful and eager. It draws Komaeda to a halt.

He doesn’t realize how long he stands watching until the song ends and the boy breaks off after sharing a laugh with the group, detached from the peacocking about to occur between Komaeda’s peers. 

Komaeda keeps watching, expecting the stirring to stop.

He watches the brunet glide from person to person, easing into conversation with all different types of people - Oowada, Tsumiki, Iruma, Tanaka - smiling and laughing and making friends, until he’s made his way back to Nanami, who seems to only ever pause her games and focus her attention for him.

Komaeda stays on the outskirts where his presence is preferred. The stirring within him continues on, but now it is followed closely by an ache.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s just past the cusp of early afternoon and the sky is gray, rain pattering steady against the windows. When he looks out beyond the glass, where trails of water sluice together and blur the outside world, he can just make out the Reserve Course building.

He’s never really bothered to consider it before. It must always be dreary and gray there, surely.

Komaeda and Nanami are the only ones in the classroom for lunch break. She’s reading through a stack of papers he knows consist of various opinions, concerns, and ideas from his classmates. In his hands rests a book that has been long forgotten - his thoughts are on the party.

Nanami’s friend, specifically. How easy it was for him to fit in. How blithe he’d seemed about everything. The way he smiled. 

What he _really_ is, a talentless student in that dark and lifeless Reserve building, deceptive enough to portray himself as a different person entirely.

Komaeda skims his fingers up the edges of his book, against the pages. “Nanami-san,” he says, turning away from the window to look at her, “who was the Reserve student you brought to Maizono-san’s party?”

She finishes reading over the last bit of the sheet she’s holding before putting it down and shifting around to face him. She crosses her arms and rests them on the top of the backrest of her chair. “Hajime – Hinata. Um, Hinata Hajime, I mean.”

“I see.” His fingers glide over and rest on the open page, start to tap. “You shouldn't have brought him – he didn't deserve to be there. He has no place with us.”

Nanami’s far too familiar with him to rise to the bait. “He’s really nice, you know. Good to talk to.” She lies her head against her arms, regarding him in that specific way of hers, soft and somehow astute. “If you got to know him, you’d really like him, I think.”

He makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

“Just a suggestion, is all,” she says, shuffling back around to collect all her papers and stand. He figures the conversation has ended, so he shifts his focus back to the window and beyond it.

But Nanami has one more thing to say to him.

“Komaeda,” she calls, and he looks to see her standing in the doorway, thumbs hooked beneath the pale pink straps of her backpack. “Um, I really do think you should give him a chance, if you can. He _is_ really nice, and I feel you guys would really click together. Maybe.”

Komaeda clenches his teeth and doesn’t bother with a reply. He would never willingly go out of his way to talk to a _Reserve_ student, of all people. But while he watches her leave, he feels the pull of innate curiosity, the way it hooks around her words and brings them to the forefront of his mind. 

To wonder about somebody doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself. 

Yet, as he tosses Hinata’s name around in his head like a coin, the stirring returns. 

_You would really click together_ , she said, and the ache is back as if it never left.

  
  


***

  
  


Luck is a thing that conforms only to its own impulses. It is unpredictable, as cruel as it is compassionate, and it will always be a stranger even to those born bound to its shifting whims.

Despite this inherent fact, Komaeda has attempted to familiarize himself with his specific cycle as best he can; he knows there are extremes for both good and bad luck, and one will always follow the other.

Not all luck he gets, however, is _decidedly_ good or bad - life isn’t so black and white. Sometimes, there is just _luck_ , and Komaeda is the one that must determine if what he’s been dealt will be beneficial or detrimental.

It's mid-autumn and the sky’s hued amber and rose-rimmed as afternoon bleeds into evening, and there’s just enough bitterness in the breeze to sting color into his cheeks while he walks; during his years attending Hope’s Peak, it’s become more or less routine for Komaeda to frequent the library-cafe just minutes away from the academy after classes.

He never gets tired of the warmth that swaddles him the moment he opens the door, or the scent of coffee and cakes wafting through the air, promising to keep him company from the moment he enters to the moment he leaves. He gets his usual, weaves his way between the dark oak bookshelves to his favorite spot, where he can sit comfortably by the floor-to-ceiling windows and read in the soft orange light.

Komaeda often comes a little later to avoid the crowds of students that come after school to study. The bustle makes him anxious, and he hates people crowding in his space. Normally, the area where he likes to sit is empty.

But someone else is there, this time. Komaeda stops, standing not too far from him.

“Hinata?”

His name tumbles from Komaeda’s mouth before he can stop himself. He’s never seen Hinata here before, and though he’s curious if this is coincidence or luck, he should’ve just _left_. He should’ve just walked away, sat somewhere else, _gone_ somewhere else, because now Hinata’s looking up and smiling that pretty smile of his and Komaeda’s dismayed to find he feels so very _charmed_ being on the receiving end of it.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, drawing himself upright and away from the table where his books lay open-faced. “And, seeing as you know that, I’m guessing you’re one of Chiaki’s friends?”

“You’d be correct.” It irritates him that Hinata speaks so casually about Nanami - his presence in general irritates Komaeda, so he’s not entirely sure why he’s slipping into the seat across from Hinata. “How’d you go about figuring that out?”

“Pfft, come on. You’d only know my name if someone told you – I’m in the Reserve Course.” Hinata rests his elbows on the table and he leans forward - the light catches and dances green and pretty in his eyes. Komaeda wants to push his fingers into Hinata's sockets so he doesn't have to look into them. “I wouldn’t be there if I was already some sort of household name or something, would I?”

Hinata tries another smile, but Komaeda sees through this one - it’s taut with strain. Hinata knows what he is and tries to hide the reality behind mangled confidence. Komaeda wouldn't have expected anything more from someone like him.

(He tries not to acknowledge the tightness knotting in his chest when he realizes his own confidence, too, is comparably mangled. It won’t do to draw similarities when there shouldn’t be any to begin with.)

Even so, there’s a magnetism to him that’s hard to place. Hinata makes his skin crawl in a way that is pleasant instead of detestable.

It’s not something Komaeda is particularly fond of. It shouldn’t be like that.

“Well,” and Komaeda’s brought out of his thoughts to see Hinata standing with his bag slung over his shoulder and his books in his arms, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was actually just about to leave – train to catch – but, seeing as you know my name –”

“Komaeda Nagito,” he says brusquely, and feels a sick little twist of delight when he sees Hinata’s shoulders fall and his smile falter.

“Alright.” Hinata’s voice has gone soft. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll see you around?”

“You will,” he says, and he isn’t lying.

Komaeda gazes after him as he leaves, and finds he’s taken off guard by the sudden onset of _loneliness_ he feels when Hinata looks back at him before slipping out the door, as if he’s curious about Komaeda.

Almost like Hinata regrets not being able to spend more time with him.

Komaeda tries not to think about it, tries to ignore that no one’s really looked at him like that before, choosing instead to consider what kind of luck Hinata might reflect. The good kind, an indication of approaching prosperity and happiness, or the bad, an omen that Komaeda isn’t destined to gain but to lose.

  
  


***

  
  


It’s necessary, of course, for Komaeda to spend time with Hinata to keep him from tarnishing the purity and ambition of the other Ultimates. Reserves are always so leaching, always so despairing, and that is precisely what cements their purpose as stepping stones for hope. That very hopeless, cyclical existence of theirs is what serves to help the Ultimates shine so brilliantly, and it’s Komaeda’s job as the most wretched of all of them, the most unwanted and unworthy, to put himself between his classmates and Hinata to make sure they remain unsullied in the process. This is why he keeps subjecting himself to Hinata’s presence.

Or so he tells himself. Komaeda tells himself a great deal of things.

It’s certainly not that each interaction makes him _eager_ to speak with Hinata and spend more time with him. It’s not that he keeps thinking of the way Hinata looks at him, how Hinata’s always nice to him, or his smile - the genuine one, the one that’s bright and warm and blinding, the one that makes Komaeda feel welcome despite knowing what Hinata _is_.

It’s not that he _enjoys_ being with Hinata.

They’re back in the library again, a few days later, Hinata sitting across from him as he scribbles away in a notebook, textbooks and loose papers scattered helter-skelter, brows furrowed and lips pressed flat in what seems to be perpetual frustration.

The afternoon light’s pale gold and filtering in bright, setting Hinata to gleam. Komaeda drags his gaze over healthy, bronzed skin, sharp cheekbones, a squared jaw and feels that unsettling, disgusting _stirring_ again and wholeheartedly despises Hinata for being more attractive than he deserves to be. Komaeda wonders if his skeleton would be just as pretty without all the sinew and beautiful skin.

“You’re going to give yourself a brain cramp if you keep thinking that hard,” he says, disguised in amicability. “I’m getting one just looking at you.”

“It’s this calculus _bullshit_ ,” Hinata’s equally amiable, if in a slightly more sarcastic manner. “I’d rather serve time than put up with this – they basically teach this crap in hieroglyphics, then throw you straight into the deep end and tell you to swim. They even have the balls to get _mad_ if you start to flail and call for help.”

Komaeda doesn't mean to laugh, but he does. Hinata pauses his writing to flick his gaze up, a quick uptick pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Would you mind if I take a look?” Komaeda pauses. “We don’t really do this kind of work in our classes.”

Hinata clicks his tongue. “Don't rub it in. But yeah, be my guest.”

Komaeda dog-ears the top corner of the page he’d been reading and sets his book aside as Hinata turns his notebook around and slides it across the table. Komaeda leans forward to get a better look - it’s completely illegible. Not because of Hinata’s handwriting, but because the equations and symbols and formulas and terms scrawled top to bottom are so convoluted that Komaeda’s head aches just _looking_ at them.

He looks at Hinata and raises his brows. “ _‘Alternating series test’_?”

“I like to call it alternating depression test,” Hinata says. “If you look at it and immediately start to spiral, you just know you’re in for a _real_ blessing of a day. But if you look at it and go ‘well, I guess I have the capacity to deal with this today,’ you’re probably gonna be alright. At least for a bit.” 

“And you’re leaning towards?”

“Oh, I've been caught in the middle since the semester started. It’s a very precarious balancing act, you know.”

Hinata flashes his smile again and Komaeda’s heart beats a little faster, his skin feels a little flushed, and he’s caught on the brink of wanting to admire that grin forever and wanting to pry Hinata’s mouth wide open to twist those pretty teeth out and stick his fingers in the wounds as punishment for making him react that way in the first place.

He’s above all of it, after all, he tells himself. The work and the stress, the talentless and the hopeless, Hinata - it's all beneath him. _Hinata's_ beneath him, meant to be used for the greater good. Komaeda’s only hanging around Hinata to remind himself of that, that _he’s_ above _something_. Once he’s had enough, Komaeda will abandon him just as he deserves.

But then a couple of days becomes a week, a week blurs into several, weeks progress into a little more than a month, and Komaeda keeps coming to the library after school, earlier each time to see and spend as much time as he can with Hinata because he smiles and laughs and talks with Komaeda and he’s never known that before. It isn’t long until their surface level conversations start to sink into something with more depth, until he’s walking Hinata to the train station every evening, until he’s feeling that _ache_ in his chest every time they say goodbye because he doesn’t want Hinata to go.

It isn’t long until he unintentionally starts to see Hinata as human.

  
  


***

  
  


Komaeda realizes how much of a mistake he’s made when Nanami comes to him one morning, eyes bright and smile soft. Her console is nowhere in sight.

“He asks about you all the time, you know,” she says, and he notices the faint blush on her cheeks when she tilts her head. “Always wants to know how you are. He really likes spending time with you, I think.”

He knows he’s made a mistake because her words make him feel his heart’s hummingbird beat within his chest, the twisting flutter in his stomach, the sweat coating his palms. Hinata _asks_ about him, Hinata _thinks_ about him, and it forces him to admit he thinks about Hinata too, how he no longer hates that it’s _Hinata_ , of all people, to make him feel the way he does.

He’s made a mistake and he doesn’t want to fix it.

In Komaeda’s world, of Ultimates and talents, he’s the most unwanted. He is repellant to most and, to find some sense of belonging, conformed to that position accordingly. If his classmates - or the younger Ultimates - want something from him, he will give because it’s needed and expected of him. If they want to take from him and cast him aside, he will always be accepting of this and willing to give.

It's not that he _minds_. They represent everything Komaeda holds dear, everything he looks up to. But he’s never really known family, he’s never really known _true_ friends. He’s only known what it means to be unwanted but tolerated, and that wears on a person regardless of their beliefs.

But Hinata teaches him about friendship and kindness. Hinata always tries to give, always tries to understand Komaeda even when he isn’t as nice as he could be, even when he goes on about luck and hope and cycles and necessities. He’s headstrong in a way Komaeda isn’t, because their lives have played out to differentiate them that way. He can ground Komaeda in reality because Hinata’s never had any other choice to be anywhere _but_ reality. He teases things out of Komaeda that he himself hadn't realized were even there, because Hinata tries to learn and understand Komaeda’s eccentricities, adapt to him in ways even Nanami couldn’t be bothered to.

Hinata makes him feel _wanted_ , and Komaeda learns how to reciprocate that towards someone he doesn't _idolize_. Hinata's brand of empathy and determination could be a talent in its own right.

When their relationship starts to change, it begins with sweeter, affectionate things; Hinata reaching out to gently hold Komaeda’s hand when he’s walking too fast, Hinata sitting so close to him in the library that his body brushes up against Komaeda’s when he shifts to show him something or just to talk to him, Hinata calling in the early hours when anxiety and self-doubt keeps him from sleep, fretting while he calls him _Komaeda-kun_ or _Nagito_ in a voice weighted and rasped with fatigue.

He doesn’t mind. He’s never been good at smothering the warmth that spreads through his chest when he hears Hinata’s voice saying his name, anyway.

“You aren’t a burden,” Komaeda’s crooning into the line, head tilted and hand cupped around the bottom-most part of his cell phone - the clock on his bedside table reads 2:47 AM and he couldn’t care less. “You’re the _furthest_ thing from a burden, Hinata-kun. I would never lie to you about that.”

“I-I know, and I don’t mean to imply that you would, it’s just, the things they tell us there, how we’re treated –” there’s a long, shaky sigh, “– it gets in your head and really fucks with you. You go in there already believing you're useless, and they just reinforce it.”

“None of it is right,” he says, and he means it - only for Hinata. Hinata’s peers could wither up and rot and Komaeda wouldn't bat an eye. “None of it is true. I don’t know anyone who works as hard as you do, excels the way you do.”

“It just feels like it’s never enough.”

“It’s like you said – the things they say, the ways they treat you. It’s like they’re trying to punish you for _nothing_.” Komaeda lowers his hand and skims it over the cool sheets and wishes they were warm, wishes they held another presence - he could make Hinata feel so _good_. “You deserve so much better, Hinata-kun. You have so much potential.”

Hinata’s quiet for a moment. Komaeda can hear rustling on the other end as Hinata shifts around in bed, the steadiness of the quiet breaths he takes.

“Komaeda?” Hinata is soft and tentative.

“Mmm?”

“What do you… how do you feel about me?”

Komaeda hesitates. He knows what Hinata's asking, but he's never been the type to talk _sweetly_ about these things - what he'd like to do is tell Hinata to come over and see how Komaeda feels about him for himself. How he wants to show it.

But that's too forward, and there's no fun in forward.

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He finds a balance between cloying and impartial. “I care about you greatly. I don’t want you to feel this way, and I'll be here to support you no matter what.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s –” Komaeda catches the little whimpering noise Hinata makes before clearing his throat. “That’s what I was talking about, yeah. I care about you too, Komaeda-kun.”

He smiles. “I know.”

It's from there that their relationship starts to segue into something that is _far_ less innocent.

  
  


***

  
  


Openness is boring in the sense that it restricts buildup - if everything is laid out in the open, then there’s no reason to guess, to tiptoe into emotions, to test the waters.

To tease.

Of course, Komaeda is grateful that Hinata was open with him in a way he clearly thought was inconspicuous. If it had been someone else, Hinata might’ve gotten away with it. But Komaeda is used to watching and listening. He picks up on all kinds of tells, even if it’s just over the phone.

He really liked the whimpering noise Hinata made. So Komaeda makes him make it again.

Hinata’s waiting for him by the fountain with his back turned, oblivious to Komaeda’s quiet, approaching presence. He’s got his phone out, scrolling through media and messages and he flinches when Komaeda presses against him but relaxes immediately when he notices who it is.

Komaeda brushes his lips against Hinata’s ear, asks him if he’s ready to go, and when he runs his hands up Hinata’s back, over his shoulders, down his arms, Hinata melts into him and makes that sweet little whimper again. There’s a flash of an image from one of Komaeda’s _many_ fantasies, of Hinata tangled up in sheets beneath him, writhing and messy and _wet_ , and Komaeda has to pull away so Hinata doesn’t _feel_ just how much he affects him.

For a time, it continues on like this. Komaeda purrs things into Hinata’s ear and delights in the way he stutters and stammers before quickly composing himself, how a flush darkens his skin when Komaeda touches him in ways that are flighty but sexual, how Hinata always looks to him with eyes that ask him for more.

But Hinata isn’t a pushover, and it doesn’t take long for him to respond to Komaeda’s advances in his own way. He’s not as daring as Komaeda, choosing the safer route of affectionate, but Komaeda enjoys it when Hinata nuzzles into the crook of his neck or traces a finger along the prominence of his collarbone, when Hinata speaks to him in ways that are low and smooth and alluring.

Try as he might to drag this out, their dispositions rapidly begin to shift. It doesn’t take long for Komaeda to lose the patience that just barely let him pretend he doesn't want to fuck Hinata’s brains out, and it doesn’t take long for Hinata to stop pretending he has any decency and doesn’t want Komaeda to do just that.

It makes sense, he supposes, that it happens where their relationship began - the library.

Hinata is being particularly pushy with him. “ _Komaeda_ ,” he’ll say, he’ll _whine_ , breathy and needy and wide-eyed because he _knows_ , leaning over to dangle himself in Komaeda’s space as he plays dumb and pretends he can’t do his work, does everything he can to keep Komaeda’s attention on him.

He doesn’t give in, not right away. He enjoys seeing Hinata frustrated, how his brows knit together when he blushes and grits his teeth each time Komaeda doesn’t play into his temptation. It’s Komaeda’s form of petty payback, in a way - Hinata was never supposed to get this far. Komaeda wasn’t ever supposed to _enjoy_ Hinata.

But even he has a breaking point, and it’s reached when Hinata trails his fingers up Komaeda’s thigh and leans over to press his mouth to the juncture of Komaeda’s neck, just below his jaw, to lick and nip at his skin. 

Hinata is a _brat_.

He’s wrapping his fingers around Hinata’s wrist and dragging him up from his seat and into some sequestered back corner of the library where he pins Hinata against the smooth dark surface of a bookshelf, curling his fingers in Hinata’s hair to tilt his head back so he can fit their lips together. He nudges Hinata’s mouth open with an insistent push and he makes the filthiest little noise when Komaeda glides his tongue into his mouth to flick at his. 

Komaeda’s hardly surprised that, despite all his teasing, Hinata is eager to submit. He’s all whimpers and whines, grasping at Komaeda like he’s the most important person in the world, like he’s the _only_ person in the world and it drives him into hazy delirium. Hinata meets each stroke of Komaeda’s tongue with eagerness, honey-sweet and just as soft and Komaeda wants to consume him, take every piece of him to claim as his own.

“Someone’ll see us,” Hinata murmurs, after pulling away. Komaeda swipes his thumb along Hinata’s swollen bottom lip and his lashes flutter when he looks up at Komaeda. It makes him _burn_ \- all Komaeda can think about is how badly he wants to ruin Hinata.

“Lucky them.” If he cared he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. If someone sees, they’ll know exactly who Hinata belongs to.

Hinata makes another desperate noise when Komaeda nudges his legs apart for easier access, shudders when Komaeda glides his tongue up his neck and flicks it against the shell of his ear as he drags a hand down Hinata’s torso. He can feel the solidness of Hinata, all his muscle even beneath the uniform and he’d like nothing more than to strip him bare and admire him, commit all of him to memory, but he can’t. Not yet. Not here.

Komaeda presses his mouth back to the curve of Hinata’s neck, who shivers and arches into him as he suckles at the skin and drags his palm over the strain in Hinata’s slacks. He teases Hinata through the fabric until he’s bucking beneath his touch, whining into his ear for more. His fingers are deft finding and unfastening Hinata’s fly, and Komaeda stops marking his neck to pull away and look at him, see how his pupils dilate, the way he bites his lip to keep himself quiet.

“You’re _perfect_ , Hajime,” he purrs, and though he’s quick to slip his hand into Hinata’s underwear, Hinata is just quick enough to press his mouth to Komaeda’s to smother what would have been a _very_ loud moan as he takes Hinata in his hand to stroke him slow and hard, swiping his fingers over Hinata’s leaking head and slicking his length when he repeats the motion.

His touch only seems to make Hinata desperate. He’s gripping Komaeda’s blazer tight in shaking hands and pulling him close, moaning eagerly into Komaeda’s mouth while he kisses Hinata hard, swiping his tongue at soft pliant lips and plunging into Hinata’s mouth to glide their tongues together. Komaeda’s pressing right into Hinata, rolling his hips in an attempt to alleviate the need straining between his legs as Hinata’s hips stutter after each languid stroke of his hand, chasing a stronger stimulation that Komaeda’s not quite sure he’s willing to give.

“ _More_ –” Hinata’s voice is frantic with lust when he pulls away to bury his face in the crook of Komaeda’s neck. “More, more, _more_ –”

Komaeda has to fight to keep himself controlled and steady - Hinata’s so enticing, what with his begging and little suppressed moans and his skin dusted pink and his eyes wide and shimmering. Every sound, every movement he makes stokes the fire smoldering steady in the pit of Komaeda’s stomach and tempts him to throw caution to the wind and have his way with Hinata right _now_ , hard and messy, hand pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet while Komaeda teaches him what pleasure _really_ is.

Another time, he decides, because if he has to suffer then that’s all the more reason to make Hinata suffer, and the idea of Hinata pining for and touching himself to the thought of Komaeda is something he can think about and get off to for _months_.

So he presses his lips to Hinata’s forehead and _smirks_ , working his wrist in a way that has Hinata shuddering out a quiet gasp and angling his hips up for more. He quickens and steadies his pace, listening as Hinata’s throaty moans gradually hike up in pitch and draw out longer, but Komaeda keeps going until Hinata’s drooling on his shoulder and his thrusts into Komaeda’s hand become mindless and sloppy before he pulls his hand away and out, leaving Hinata right on the brink.

“A- _ah_ – nnngh… Nagito –?” He sways and slumps against the bookshelf, teary-eyed and completely flushed.

“I thought about it,” Komaeda’s speaking slow and entirely smug, “and you’re right. Someone _might_ see us.”

For a moment, all Hinata does is stare up at him, lips slightly parted and eyes wide and doe-like while he processes what Komaeda’s telling him. Then he’s gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes, quietly hissing his irritation.

“Y-you’re such a _prick_ ,” he seethes, but there’s unmistakable mischief in Hinata’s eyes - though Komaeda’s more focused on the adorable, post-arousal waver in his voice. “One _stellar a-asshole_ , the most miserable person I’ve ev –”

He falters when Komaeda brings his fingers up and brushes them over Hinata’s lips, waiting for permission, and slowly plunges them in when Hinata makes no move to protest or push him away. Hinata holds his gaze, curling his tongue around the digits to taste himself - Komaeda has to fight back a moan.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he murmurs. Hinata quivers and leans into Komaeda when he draws his fingers from his mouth.

He puts Hinata back together, walks him to and waits with him at the station, an arm wrapped around Hinata’s waist, cheek resting against the side of his head. When the train comes, Komaeda presses a kiss to Hinata’s temple, who turns to look at him expectantly.

“Think about me when you fuck yourself tonight,” Komaeda whispers, and Hinata whines low in his throat as his legs start to shake. Komaeda gently pushes him to send him staggering into the half-empty train car. He doesn’t stay to see the rest of Hinata’s reaction - Komaeda’s dangerously close to unraveling himself.

It’s not until later - well into the evening - that Komaeda’s phone rings. It’s not something he necessarily expected, but he’s far from displeased. He doesn’t bother checking to see the caller - he knows who it is.

“Angel,” he says, and Hinata’s breath hitches over the line. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah, everything’s f- _fine_ ,” Hinata’s speaking uneven and frenetic and Komaeda knows, for all the thrilling and perverse reasons he can possibly come up with, that Hinata is _far_ from okay and exactly why that is. “I just – I just wanted to –” there’s another hitch, a stifled moan, “– hear your voice.”

He can imagine Hinata so clearly, tawny skin burning up pink and pretty with the fever-thrill brought on by arousal, muscles tensing and taut with a hand working between his legs, lips parting while he coaxes those _obscene_ noises from himself. Komaeda leans against the headboard, light-headed and heart racing, arching his hips to tug his sweatpants and underwear down around his thighs and take himself in hand.

“Are you thinking of me?” He takes great pride in the steadiness of his voice despite his pulse thumping away in his throat and the need coiling low and hot in his pelvis. “Like I told you to?”

“ _Fuck_ yes, of _course_ I – _fuck_ , I am, _I am_ ,” there’s a heady groan and the muffled sound of skin-on-skin and Hinata’s moaning Komaeda’s name, _pleading_. “I c-can’t _stop_ thinking about you. I-I don’t _want_ to stop.”

“ _Good boy_ ,” it comes low and husky, makes Hinata’s sonorous moans spiral into something desperate and ragged - maybe Hinata can tell how _genuine_ Komaeda’s praise is, too, how much he really means it. Komaeda grits his teeth _hard_ to stop himself from making any noises of his own while he ruts into his hand, thinking how much better it would be if he was fucking into Hinata instead and curses his adamant insistence to torment Hinata instead of just bringing him back to his dorm. “You’re _so good_ , Hajime.”

“ _Nagito_ …” Hinata’s mewling, breaths catching and lilting up and Komaeda can’t stop the sound that works its way past his lips when he hears Hinata saying his name like _that_. Komaeda snaps his hips up, eyes rolling back, listening to Hinata's stuttering. "Nagito, c-can you just – I _need_ you, just _please_ , please please _please_ –”

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Komaeda’s fighting the waver at the edge of his voice, breathing unsteady, hand stroking fast to Hinata’s begging and whimpering, the way his name keeps curling from Hinata’s mouth. Komaeda could keep Hinata like this _forever_ , completely at his mercy, hazed out and incoherent because of him. _Just_ for him. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

Komaeda learns there’s an easiness to Hinata when he’s like this, lost as he is in his pleasure - Hinata’s too worked up to throw Komaeda attitude and any desire to tease him has been smothered beneath his overwhelming desire to submit and be good for him. It’s behavior Komaeda’s inclined to reward, coaxing Hinata to the edge over and over again. Hinata has a filthy mind, but Komaeda’s is _filthier_ , and it only gets worse the farther he falls into a daze of ecstasy, losing his own inhibitions and the self-control that comes with them.

Needless to say, neither of them get much sleep that night.

  
  


***

  
  


Komaeda gets what he wants.

He cares deeply about Hinata, in his own strange, mildly distorted Komaeda way; he wants to _undo_ Hinata. He wants to unwrap Hinata inch by inch, hook his fingers around the curvature of his bones, press his mouth to the velvet of his heart. 

He needs to defile Hinata. He needs to make Hinata _his_.

So that is what he does, in the dusky gray light of his bedroom, Hinata lying supine beneath him on the stark white cotton of his dress shirt, spread haphazardly beneath him - he is well-knit, more muscle to him than that unbefitting uniform led Komaeda to believe. He can’t stop himself from roving his hands over Hinata’s sinewy frame, dragging his fingers down his ribs, feeling every notch and ridge, sliding one hand down between Hinata’s legs to curl his long fingers around him and massage him against his palm. Hinata’s hips immediately twitch up, and he looks at Komaeda in a way that has him feeling hot and breathless.

Komaeda spends many, many minutes pleasuring Hinata at the same slow and steady pace, watching the way his lips quiver before he moans, always holding Komaeda’s gaze, fluttering his lashes every so often instead of shying away. Komaeda loves it, because he gets to watch Hinata’s composure fall apart, how he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites just a bit too hard as his eyes start to narrow when Komaeda shows no intention of increasing the pace. There’s no pretense or faking with Hinata - he wears his frustration openly and acts on it, and it’s not long until he’s rolling his hips into Komaeda’s hand, trying to make him comply.

Komaeda doesn’t intend to. Not until he feels like it.

“What,” he says, twining fingers in Hinata’s hair and _pulling_ to make him look at him, “do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re going t-too _slow_ ,” he tries to match Komaeda’s poise, but his voice is already beginning to waver.

Komaeda smiles, presses a kiss to the corner of Hinata’s mouth, and goes even slower. “If you’re going to fuss about it, I won’t bother touching you at all.”

Hinata’s mouth pops open to snap at him but Komaeda catches Hinata’s lips with his own to silence him, smothering Hinata’s words back down before they can even surface. Whatever it was, his heart clearly wasn’t in it, seeing how eager he is to lock into rhythm and let Komaeda fuck into his mouth with his tongue.

As much as he’d like to be, Komaeda isn’t immune to Hinata. Not to his voice, the noises he makes, and certainly not the sight nor sensation of his body writhing around beneath him - Komaeda’s need for him pools so heavy in his stomach it _hurts_. He’s trailing his mouth down to Hinata’s neck to nip and bite and mark, shifting his hips so he can grind against the smooth skin of Hinata’s inner thigh and when Komaeda moans, Hinata turns his head to nibble at Komaeda’s ear and _purr_. 

Before he can stop himself, he’s stroking Hinata to the pace he sets with his hips - hard, fast, and erratic, both of them rocking into each other, gasping and panting heavy. Hinata makes such a _mess_ , too, even when he’s _not_ nearing orgasm. Komaeda’s hand is slick and messy and that paired with generally _everything_ about Hinata is so provocative Komaeda feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

When Komaeda pulls his hips and hands away, Hinata's whine is immediately followed by the dirtiest noise Komaeda thinks he’s ever heard in his life when he slips a finger against Hinata’s entrance and eases his way in.

“Nagito…” Hinata whimpers, a plea as Komaeda shifts to hover above him, one hand resting by Hinata's shoulder as the other works between his legs. “Nagito, I _need_ mo –”

“ _You_ ,” he says, with a quick drive of his wrist that has Hinata’s head tilting back as he moans and arches off the bed, “need whatever I’m _willing_ to give you. Isn’t that right, my love?”

It is right - it _has_ to be right, because Hinata makes Komaeda feel so out of control in every way, something Komaeda never anticipated, something Komaeda _still_ isn’t sure how to deal with. So he has to take control the only way he knows how, and he is so relieved Hinata is heedlessly complaisant, shutting his eyes and moaning for Komaeda as he gives in.

Komaeda’s glad he’s so good at putting up fronts - he’s sure, to Hinata, he looks composed and almost unaffected, save for the tint to his skin, his heavy breathing, the _obvious_ stiffness between his thighs. But he thinks Hinata’s intoxicating. Hinata’s making him dizzy, he’s making Komaeda’s heart beat too fast, he’s making Komaeda feel things he should never, _ever_ have been able to make him feel.

Hinata grasps at Komaeda when he pushes another finger in and Komaeda lets Hinata pull him closer, lets Hinata bury his face against his neck as Komaeda drives his wrist faster, harder, working his fingers inside of him, twisting and curling, memorizing each movement and each place that makes Hinata jolt and gasp and writhe and moan until neither of them can take it anymore. Komaeda needs to have Hinata, and he needs to have him _now_.

“Tell me,” he whispers into Hinata’s ear, breathing ragged. He wants to fuck Hinata until he can’t walk, and he's going to. He’s going to. But he wants Hinata to admit how badly he wants it. Komaeda wants to hear Hinata say how much he wants him. “Ask me nicely.”

“N- _Nagito_ ,” is all he’s able to cry out, Komaeda’s fingers teasing the breath out of him. Hinata shivers and pleads.

“Come on,” he purrs, working a third digit in with the rest, stretching Hinata to his limit. Komaeda’s body is screaming at him, everything rigid and hot, like there’s iron burning beneath every inch of his skin. He tilts his hips to have himself positioned closer to Hinata’s entrance, ready to take him, but Hinata has to say it. He _needs_ Hinata to say it. “Tell me.”

“ _Nagito_ , fuck, I –” Hinata takes a sharp intake of breath, shudders it back out. “I-I want it, I _need_ it. I need _you_ , please just – _please fuck me_ , I can’t _stand_ it, _ple_ –”

Before he can even finish, Komaeda’s pulling his fingers out of Hinata and thrusting into him, where he is tight and warm and feels perfect. Both of them moan, mouths parting in pleasure. It’s everything Komaeda could have wanted. Hinata seizes onto Komaeda as he begins to push into him, moving with Komaeda, thrashing his hips up to take all of him. They start a rhythm that is mindless and desperate, clawing and grasping at each other. When Komaeda finds the spot that makes Hinata’s heels skid across the sheets as he screams, he catches Hinata's hips and angles them up to _keep_ hitting it, fucking Hinata so deep and so hard the bed creaks and scrapes loud against the floor.

Hinata’s quick to finish, all the previous stimulation catching up with him, but Komaeda doesn’t stop. He fucks Hinata through and past his orgasm, delighting in the mess Hinata makes between the two of them. Hinata gapes at him with pupils wide and wanton, shaking legs hiked up around Komaeda’s waist, nails raking red down his back.

“I c- _can’t_ handle it, Nagito, _p-please_ , no more, I _can’t_ , I ca –” Hinata cuts himself off with a wail, eyes rolling back as tears stream down his cheeks when Komaeda gives a particularly hard and brutal thrust to shut him up.

“You’ll take it, sweetheart,” he growls out. Komaeda intends to leave his name burning on Hinata’s lips for days.

He can feel it building up within him, a spring coiling tightly, getting ready to release, bringing him closer and closer to the threshold. He rests his head against Hinata’s chest, who’s a writhing incoherent disaster beneath him, mouthing _I need you I need you I need you_ against Hinata’s skin so he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

When the spring releases, Komaeda jerks forward _hard_ , digging his nails into Hinata’s hips as he empties into him. He holds Hinata like that for a moment, coming down from his high, and then slowly pulls out and lowers him to the mattress.

Hinata’s gazing up at him, blissed out and smiling. Komaeda rests a hand against his cheek, stroking the tear tracks from Hinata’s face while he nuzzles into his palm.

“Wait here,” he says, though Hinata’s in no state to get up and walk on his own anytime soon.

Komaeda draws a bath for the both of them, grabs a towel and gets a glass of water for Hinata on the way back to the bedroom. Hinata’s sitting up, waiting for him.

“You’re so lucky I have more than one shirt,” he says, smiling as he takes the glass from Komaeda.

Komaeda chuckles, presses his forehead to Hinata’s while he cleans him off. “Luck’s my thing. I would’ve bought you another one if you didn’t.”

In the bathtub, Hinata cuddles right up to him, head resting on the hollow of Komaeda’s neck. Komaeda traces his fingers over Hinata’s skin, all the dips and divots of his bones, whispering nothings so sweet they make Hinata purr. A part of Komaeda still hates to admit how much Hinata means to him, so he doesn’t, not outright. Just for now, at least.

He’d be surprised if Hinata didn’t know by now, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> (The word count fluctuating violently as I try to figure out how in the fresh fall hell I'm going to characterize Komaeda: ↗️↗️➡️⬇️↩↘️⬇️🔃↩↗️⬇️↗️⬇️➡️)
> 
> Originally I wrote the phone sex in entirety but it was soooooo cringy I was very uncomfortable with the energy I created in the studio that day it had to be purged immediately !! 🖐😌
> 
> On that note though, I am really sorry that the smut's fairly(?) minimal and not extremely and raunchily detailed. I currently do not possess the smut writer vernacular nor the confidence and what I did write was the result of a spiral that probably only serves to showcase my inexperience lmao. It's definitely not something that comes naturally to me, the process to write it is very slow and very awkward lol. I'll get there (probably)!


End file.
